


Bitten

by mrspotatohead



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Crying, Heartbreaking, Heavy Angst, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Major Character(s), One Shot, Other, Past Lori Grimes/Rick Grimes, Sad, Sad Ending, Shooting, Teen Carl, Violence Against Walkers, Walkers (Walking Dead), Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:05:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrspotatohead/pseuds/mrspotatohead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl is bitten and Rick must kill him before he turns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitten

Carl felt the bite as soon as it happened.

It was so sudden, right at the top of his forearm, the walker sunk his rotten, disgusting teeth into the kid's flesh, and it burned and he _screamed_. He screamed so loud, his throat aching, his eyes watering from blinding pain and sadness and the overwhelming sense of defeat. He'd known, of course, that this would happen to him at some point -- he just didn't expect it to be so _soon_. He was still so young, he was only fifteen. He thought he'd have at least a few more years of running, of hiding, of surviving, time was supposed to be on his side. But apparently not.

"Dad!" He screeched, just as Rick managed to pry the walker off of him, its neck snapping sickeningly in the process so it collapsed onto the floor a few feet away from them. He was at his son's side in a second, kneeling down and grabbing his contaminated arm frantically, staring at it as if he could just make the gaping bite disappear by the shear power of will. 

"It bit you?" Rick's voice sounded rough, and it caught in his throat as if he was struggling to even get the words out. His eyes, blue like his son's, were burning with tears yet to be shed. 

"Yeah." Carl's voice cracked, and his breathing was labored, and Rick knew he was trying not to cry. "I've been bitten, dad." 

" _No_." The older man replied, wrapping his arms around the teenager, hugging him and holding him, almost cradling him like he was a newborn baby all over again. He refused to believe it. This was _Carl._ This was his boy, his kid. His kid who he'd taught to walk, to talk, to fight and to survive. And now he was lying here on a goddamn sidewalk with his arm pouring of blood and his heart beating slower with every passing moment and Rick wished, wished with every bone in his body that this was all some sort of dream and he'd wake up to see Carl laughing with Michonne, or playing with Judith or anything other than laying out in the street, dying.

"I'm sorry, dad." Carl sobbed suddenly, burying his face in his fathers chest. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey." Rick looked down at the boy. "Don't you _dare._ Don't you dare apologize to me. Don't you dare start telling me your goodbyes. We - We need to get you back to the group. They'll have some painkillers, some medicine, we can save you- " Carl cut him off, his brow drawn in a deep frown, his eyes bleak and filled with dread.

"There's no _time_ , dad. It's too late - I'm - " Carl coughed, his chest heaving harshly. "I'm going to turn into one of them, and pretty soon too, if you don't - " 

"Shut up. Carl, shut up, don't - I'm not, I can't." Rick stammered, knowing what Carl was suggesting without him even having to say it, knowing it was inevitable. Knowing, but not caring because this was his son and he couldn't kill him. He couldn't kill his own son, not for anything. Not for the world.

"You have to! You have to, please." Carl begged, his eyes flooding with fresh tears. "Just- just kill me." He whispered, not able to meet his dads eyes as he uttered the words because he couldn't believe they were actually coming out of his mouth. 

Rick stood up suddenly, trying to get Carl to join him, hooking his arm behind the younger boys back and almost dragging him down the now deserted road. 

"I can get you back to the group. I _can_ , and when we get there they'll help you, plenty of people have survived a bite, what makes you any different?" There was a false sense of determination in Rick's voice, almost like he believed that if he said it enough times, Carl would be okay. But that's not how things worked, they both knew that, and Carl could barely stay on his feet for more than a few minutes because there was simply no time. 

Rick was kidding himself, thinking they'd get back to the group in time for him to be saved. 

So he pulled away. He pulled away from his father, and looked him square in the eyes because this was ludicrous. He knew he wasn't surviving this, and he'd rather die than turn into one of _those_. One of those things they'd been running from for the past four years straight. 

"Dad, listen to me, please." He gasped out, grabbing his dads arm to make him stop walking and face him, face the situation. "Y-You know I'm not getting out of this. The group is miles away. I'll be dead by the time we get there, or worse, one of _those._ I'll be a walker, and I'll be a monster, don't you get that? I'll be nothing more than a flesh hungry beast. I could bite someone, an innocent person, and then I'll be a murderer, as well a fucking zombie. So just - " Carl paused, catching his breath and studying his fathers pained expression. "Just make this easy, and shoot me." 

"How can I, Carl?" Rick yelled, agitated at the brutal honesty of his son's words. "How can you expect me to kill you?! You're my kid, for fuck sake! I'm not putting a bullet through your brain, simple as that." 

"You don't have any other choice!" Carl retaliated, swaying on his feet. The bite mark on his arm continued to drip with crimson liquid, onto the concrete below them. His forehead beaded with sweat and his skin was as pale and as cold as ice. He felt like he could pass out at any moment, the pain searing and unbearable. 

"I keep telling you, we can go back to the group - "

"No, we can't! No we _can't,_ dad! Are you even listening to me? I'm fucked, I'm done for, I'm going to die, heck, I might as well be already dead! Getting saved, surviving, it's not an option for me anymore!" 

It was like something behind Rick's eyes clicked. His shoulders sagged, his hands began to shake and he bowed his head, his jaw clenched almost painfully. His eyes were shut.

"I'm so sorry, Carl." Rick's heart felt like it was tearing into minuscule pieces, his mouth was dry, his stance rigid. "I should have protected you, I should have been better. I failed you."  

"I don't want to hear it, dad." The teenagers voice was weaker now, and softer, as if he was exhausted. "You did your best for me, you always did. If - If it wasn't for you, I'd have never made it even this far. I _love_ you." 

"Oh, Carl." He could barely breathe, and he couldn't look at the child before him without tearing up. "I love you, I love you, of course I do. You're my boy."  

Rick cupped Carl's face gently, marveling at the man his little kid had become. He hadn't really noticed it before now, but Carl had truly grown up and matured, and he just seemed so much older than merely 15 years old. He'd been through so much, but he'd persevered and he'd fought and he'd flourished and now he was dying. Rick cursed the world under his breath - this was all so unjust. Carl was the last person on this earth who deserved this, after all he was still a _child_ no matter how much he'd grown. He should have had so much time left, but that's not the way things worked anymore. 

"Come on." Carl broke the short silence which had settled between them. He sniffed, pulling away from his dad. "I can feel it already, I'm losing it already. Please, please do this for me." 

With one last long, hard glance at Carl, Rick nodded. Reaching for his gun, reluctantly, he was hit with a harsh nausea as the reality of what he was about to do set in. He finally understood how Carl must have felt when he had to kill Lori, those few short years ago. It was the sort of pain that couldn't be explained through words. 

Carl stood there, just a few feet away from Rick, as still as stone. His jaw was set, his expression a firm, sure one. But he was scared, terrified even.

He was chanting a mantra in his head as he felt the blood pounding in his ears. 

_It's for the best, It's for the best, It's for the best._

Rick's hands shook more than they ever had before. He aimed the gun, right where he knew it would be quick and virtually painless. He'd killed hundreds of walkers by now, and even some people that weren't even infected, and none of it had effected him as much as this. He'd never felt so much aching pain for one person, not even when Lori died. It felt like someone was physically taking a part of him and crushing it, suffocating it.

"Close your eyes, son." His voice was almost a whimper. "It's - It's just like going to sleep, I promise."

And then he pulled the trigger. 

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah  
> i wrote this bc i'm a piece of shit lmao  
> kudos and reviews are REALLY appreciated!!


End file.
